Mangled
by Obani
Summary: Mangle has a serious problem that only one person can understand. Will fate ever let them be together? (DEAD FIC)
1. Chapter 1: The Book

My birth certificate says Melangel Moody. I suppose the 'rents thought it was a lovely name, but I wasn't one for lovely. To serve the purpose of my name, I chose something that reflected me a little closer. So, let me start this story with an introduction:

My name is Mangle.

When my life changed for the first time, I was a very normal college student. My whole life was described irritatingly as 'normal'. I, however, had other words for it; trivial, mundane, boring, NOT special. The only thing I've ever wanted, all my life, was to be just the opposite. I wanted to be special, really special. I wanted the world to know me, I wanted everyone to see me and think, 'That's Mangle'.

Of course, I was hardly what you could call average. You see, I've always had a certain talent with the way things worked. I simply understood things. Be it a puzzle, an equation, even a clock, I could easily figure it out. What the pieces were, what they were for, where they belonged, it just made sense in my mind.

My family were all amazed, they called me Miracle Mel. But those small people were entranced by my shiny talent, I wasn't impressed. It wasn't enough for me, to be good, I need to be great I needed to be important.

Or so I had always thought, until the day. THAT day, when I found the book. The first time my life changed for good, and it was in such an unlikely place. Just a dinky little bookstore.

It was during one of my usual trips to said bookstore that I found it, completely by coincidence, hidden in the back between a book on alien abductions and another about hypnosis. I saw it and knew; I simply had to have it. It was called 'Activating Evolution', and written by an absolutely brilliant man named Chandra Suresh. Mr. Suresh was pretty much my new hero.

Of course, when I eagerly brought it, the book, my lifeline, up to the front desk, the bored looking woman at the checkout acted like I was insane.

"You don't really believe in this stuff, right? I mean, it's all comic books, y'know." She droned, expressing all the insight of a slice of cheese.

I didn't answer. After all, how could this... woman possibly understand what promises this book held? What did her dreams include? Maybe someday she could get out of her job behind this small desk in this small store in this small town, and get to sit behind a slightly bigger desk in a slightly bigger store in a slightly bigger town. Then, having reached her full potential, she would die, and no-one would remember her name.

But that wasn't me. I had aspirations beyond the normal, the everyday, or even the mortal. If these theories were true, if people were actually evolving, then I might be more special than I'd ever imagined; important to the entire future of humankind. I would be more than everyone I met. I would be beyond human potential.

I tried in futility to act rational, to consider the possibility that I was not special. It could be I had no 'magic power', that was a very likely possibility. But, vain as I was, I couldn't shake the feeling. I knew, in my soul, I was a part of this.

I had my nose in that book before I even left the store.

It only took me two days to read the thick book cover to cover, during which time I neither ate nor slept. Having read the book, and having absorbed every word therein, I was now sure that I possessed some ability. People had always told me that my 'talent' for understanding how things worked was uncanny. Maybe it was even superhuman.

I went to the Activating Evolution website and searched through it extensively. I must have looked through every page on the site, and it was not a small site. My eyes were getting tired, and I wondered if I should call it quits, when I found it: A tiny paragraph, insignificant to anyone but me, titled Intuitive Aptitude. Intuitive aptitude was 'the ability to psychically see and/or understand the anatomy of any system and how it works' basically, it was exactly what I could do.

I was overjoyed! It was really true, I had an ability. I was important. I was finally as special as I had always hoped. What I didn't know was that my ability came with a price, a heavy price. I would not know of this until it was far too late.

The real victim here was poor Georgia Kaspar, a quirky girl with a talent for picking locks. We weren't friends, in fact I didn't like her particularly, so I was very surprised the day she confronted me about the book.

"I saw you reading that evolution thingie, Mangle." She began bluntly.

"Yeah, so?" I fully expected her to make fun of me for it. After all, it was comic book stuff, and that wasn't real.

"So," Georgia answered, lowering her voice to a whisper even though we were outside, and no-one could hear us anyway, "I want to talk to you about it, in private."

"We're outside." I stated matter-of-factly, "and no-one can hear us."

"Oh, okay." she replied nervously, "Well, I was hoping that book might have some answers about... this." It was then that Georgia did the most amazing thing I had ever seen; she passed her hand straight through a wall.

I didn't know what to say, other than, "Wow." I know what I was thinking at that moment; Her ability made mine look like crap. What good was it to HAVE an ability when it had no practical use. I wanted, I needed, to know how Georgia's power worked. What had the book told me? It's all controlled by the brain. The only way to sate my curiosity about Georgia's power was to find the answer. And the only way to find that was to examine that brain.

No-one was around, so I picked up a sizable rock from off of the grassy soil.

"What's the rock for?"

"Oh, nothing. An experiment." I mumbled. I wasn't thinking straight. Oh, god, was I actually going to... "Hey, what's that over there?"

Georgia turned, "I don't see anythi-," As the rock hit her head and she crumpled to the ground, I absently heard a faint ticking in the back of my brain, like the tick-tock of a clock. Like a clock, I knew I could put the pieces together in my head, I just need the blueprints from the brain now in my possession.

I had to work quickly before someone showed up. Using my rock, I hacked and hacked at Georgia's head, blood spattering everywhere, covering my hands, hitting my face. Soon, her brain was exposed. I poked through it, tearing it apart until I found what I was looking for. The blueprints, the instructions, the shiny new power.

I understood now, the answer was so simple now that I could do it too. It felt good, natural, like something you just need, like air or water. It felt like I'd done what I was designed to do, I fulfilled my evolutionary imperative.

The blood on my face started to harden, and I tried to brush it off. With a start, I realized that my hands were covered in blood as well. I looked at them and it dawned on me what I'd done. There was nothing good or natural about it. I'd killed someone. An innocent human being with feelings, aspirations, parents who had now lost their child. All because of me. The realization made me sick, and I clutched at my chest, hyperventilating. Too horrified and disgusted even to cry, all I could do was run.

And I did, I ran and ran and ran and never looked back. I barely even noticed that, up in the sky, the sun was being obscured, the world was growing darker. It was an eclipse.


	2. Chapter 2: The Solution

The emotional part of my brain shut off. It couldn't handle what I'd done, and simply shut off. The logical part off my brain called all the shots. It told me to wash the blood off my hands, it told me to get on a bus, it told me not think about what had just happened.

I traveled for what seemed like years, but what was probably only a few hours. I wasn't sure where I was going, but eventually I found myself in New York City. It seemed like the perfect place to hide, so many people wound up there. I changed my name and my whole identity, and tried to start over.

Now, dear reader, you probably think of me as some kind of monster, and I wouldn't blame you. But, please realize that my ability, and, in a way, my curse, is not something I easily control. I wasn't prepared for it, and it controlled me. Now that I knew the consequences of my ability, it would not make me a killer again.

Easier said than done. Only a month or so had passed, and I already felt like I was going insane. Always, in the back of my mind, there was this pressing, urgent need to find just one more ability, just one and I would be fine. Every sound was in rhythm with a constant tick-tock.

I did everything I could, trying to stay in control, trying not to become a killer again and again. It wasn't working, every second was a struggle, and I was slowly but steadily losing. Eventually, the thought crept into my head that, as long as I was alive, I would not be able to stop myself from trying to open up people's heads. My only option was suicide.

But I was reluctant to throw my life away, as any of you would be. There had to be some other choice, some way I could put my Hunger at ease. Desperate for answers, I turned to the only source of information I had, 'Activating Evolution'. I'd left my book behind, along with everything else, so I only had the website to guide me.

The computer that I bought specifically for this purpose was old, and decidedly crappy, so it often didn't work. I prayed that it would start as I pressed the power button. Nothing could go right, the screen stayed painfully blank.

It wasn't that big of a deal, easily fixed, but I was upset. I cursed several times at the thing, punching the desk. Eventually, I calmed down and used my phasing powers, sticking my hand inside the machine. I felt around and, using my intuitive aptitude, I learned what the problem was. I didn't even have to open my computer up and take it apart.

I didn't have to take it apart.

The solution to my dilemma hit me like a ton of bricks. If I could feel the inner workings of a computer just by phasing into it, maybe I could do the same thing to a person's brain. If this plan worked, I could satiate my Hunger without becoming a killer. It was like being able to have my cake and eat it to. Perfect.

With this knowledge, I sought to track down another person with abilities. In New York City, there had to be hundreds, thousands even. If I could find them, their powers would easily be mine. The thought made me giddy.

I set to my new task without hesitation or reservation. I no longer had the time to stay in a steady job, so I stole to provide for myself. I didn't feel guilty about it, there were more important things at stake here. It was fairly easy to take what I needed, considering that I could walk through walls. It was far harder trying to track down people with abilities. Surprisingly enough, most of these people didn't want to be found.

My first lead, if that's what you want to call it, was a comic book. I happened to pass it as I was walking past a newsstand, and I noticed it because it had a symbol on its cover, the same symbol that was on the cover of Activating Evolution. That weird little squiggly with the horizontal lines... it couldn't be a coincidence.

The book was written by Isaac Mendez, his address would not be hard to find thanks to the marvel of the internet. I decided to pay this guy a visit. He probably knew about evolved humans, he might know where I could find some; heck he might even have powers himself!

As soon as I could, I went to Mendez's apartment. He didn't answer when I knocked on his door, so I walked right through, assuming he was out. I was not prepared for what I found. Surrounded by his paintings, Isaac Mendez lay sprawled on the floor, covered in his own blood and with the top of his head sliced clean off.

And standing over Isaac was a man. He was scruffier, dressed like a hobo and he'd taken off his glasses, but I recognized him. How could I forget Watch-guy?


	3. Chapter 3: The Clock

SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER

The first time I met Watch-guy was the day the old clock I had started to run one seventh of a second too slow. Maybe to someone normal like you, a seventh of a second wouldn't mean a thing, but every time that misaligned tick hit my ears, I just wanted to take that old clock and smash it over someone's head.

But I didn't. That would be rude and, besides, I liked that clock. I tried to fix it myself but, lacking the proper tools, I was very afraid of doing more harm than good. So, once the opportunity was available, I packed up my old clock, and headed directly to have it repaired. The phonebook advertised several watch-repair options, but the closest one was a small shop By the name of 'Gray & Sons'.

When I got there, it was empty, and for a moment I thought the place was closed. However, when I peered inside I caught a glimpse of Watch-guy working in the back. I didn't know at the time, of course, that that was his name. He seemed startled when I walked in.

"Your clock's broken." He stated, indicating my dysfunctional timepiece.

I gave him a look, "If only there was someone here who could fix these things, right?" I set my clock on the counter, "It's running, like, a seventh of a second off."

He looked over it, "Seems more like three twentieths of a second. I can take care of that, no problem." Then he looked up at me, as if just realizing what I said, "How could you tell what was wrong?"

I shrugged, "Just a talent I have. I can sorta tell how things work."

Watch-guy smiled, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Oh, really"

"I sorta have a similar talent."

I smiled, "So then this would be a good business for you to be in then, huh?"

Now it was his turn to shrug, "It's not very exciting. You're clock's fixed."

I started, I hadn't even realized that he'd been fixing it. I paid the man, thanked him, and was on my way. He probably put me right out of his mind, but I wasn't so quick to forget our encounter. I didn't figure our 'talents' gave us a special connection, or that fate had led me to his store. My interest in him was this: I was an... active 19-year-old girl, and he was HOT.

Somehow, during the next few days, my clock broke again. Apparently, someone had filled it with water and dropped it on the ground. I have no idea who would do such a terrible thing, but they had. It was actually fairly fortunate, because now I had an excuse to see Watch-guy again.

When I went to his shop for the second time, Watch-guy seemed even more distracted than last time. He kept giving me this strange look, and once or twice I could swear he wanted to tell me something.

He did not, however, tell me anything. I tried to make small talk, but he was proving to be ridiculously unresponsive. Eventually, I simply made my intentions known.

"You know, I sorta have and ulterior motive for coming here." I hinted, trying to look alluring. It obviously wasn't working. Watch-guy continued to fix my clock, giving me nothing more than a mumble in reply.

"Yeah, I kinda was thinking..." I pressed on, not losing hope, "That maybe you and I could get together sometime. You know, when you're NOT fixing my clock."

Watch-guy, and I cursed myself for not learning his name, stopped what he was doing and looked at me, "You mean a date?" He asked casually.

I smiled, "Yeah, like a date."

He seemed confused and a little apologetic, "I'm sorry, I'm sort of seeing someone."

Oh damn. I blushed, of course he was seeing someone! Stupid, stupid, stupid. I laughed it off though, and simply said, "Oh, well. Worth a try."

Watch-guy also blushed. It was very awkward, but out of idle curiosity I asked, "What's her name."

He smiled, "Elle."

"She sounds amazing." I replied good-naturedly, "I hope you two have lots of babies, or whatever..."

----

Since that uncomfortably encounter, I had not given Watch-guy another thought. I had kind of had my own issues to deal with, because less than a week later I would kill a woman with my own hands. That kinda puts schoolgirl crushes out of your mind.

But now it was clear. My shared talent with this man was more than that. He and I shared the ability, the ability that had made both of us into killers.

Then another piece fit itself into the puzzle. Watch-guy and I may have had a similar ability, but we had not handled it in the same way. It was obvious now. The watchmaker had named himself after a watch. This was Sylar.

Sylar, the serial killer. He was all over the news. Everyone talked about the way he sliced open people's heads. The way he could do inexplicable and impossible things. And the question on everyone's mind, what did he do with the brains?

I never put the three things together, that Watch-guy had my ability, that Sylar had my ability, that the two men were one and the same. This was a distressing revelation. The same thing which had turned that sweet, normal man into this monster was inside me. There was potential for me to become just as bad as Sylar.

Just then, Sylar's head perked up, as though he could hear me breathing. Before he could catch me and, undoubtedly, kill me, I slipped through the wall. I shook all the way home.


	4. Chapter 4: The Clue

I went back to Isaac's apartment the next day. Call me crazy, but I was a girl on a mission and I could not go much longer without an ability. I had to find something, anything that could lead me to a special, or I was going to explode.

I waited outside his door impatiently as the cops poked around. I had about zero time for this! After what seemed like an age, the police came to the obvious conclusion that Sylar had done this, and that he had not left a single scrap of evidence on the scene. Duh.

In a way, there was a reluctant sense of pride that came with this. The police could never catch Sylar, and he and I were in the same boat, so to speak. In my head I knew that there was nothing good about my connection with this murderer, but, let's face it, my priorities weren't all that clear.

Once the cops were all gone, I went up to the loft. Once again I walked through the wall, and once again a little shudder went through me as I saw the place. Isaac's body was gone, but this place still had the chill of murder in the air.

I took a deep breath, and reminded myself of why I was here. I had to feed my addiction, and nothing was more important than that. Careful not to touch anything, lest my fingerprints ended up on the crime scene, I cautiously snuck around the room, taking in what I saw.

The majority of the space seemed to be taken up by Isaac's paintings, which I would have loved to spend some time admiring in better circumstances. One thing I noticed, however, was that they all depicted fairly morbid scenes. Explosions, dead cheerleaders, terrible rock monsters and several paintings of Mendez's own death.

Wait! Something about that struck me. How could Mendez have painted his death BEFORE it happened? Either Issac had painted post-mortem, an ability too creepy for me to consider, or he was able to paint things that would happen in the future.

That was an exciting prospect! I proceeded to scan over his things in the hope that there might be something useful to me in one of his drawings. I spied a few notebooks so I snatched them. If I was lucky they would point me in the direction of a new ability.

Notebooks in hand, I disappeared though the floor and headed home. Things for me were beginning to look up. Screw you Kharma.

When I got to my apartment, I quickly started going over the notebooks. Each one was packed with sketches, ranging from rough ideas, to full drawings with color. I spent all night, poring through each page with my usual meticulousness, but it was not until the last book that I was able to gain any leads.

Every single page was filled with sketch after sketch after sketch of Kirby Plaza. A crowd was gathered around that weird, red, circular, staircase, statue... thing. Did these people have abilities? I kept looking through the book, hoping for more details.

I got a shock when I saw the drawing of me. My own picture, drawn by a man who had never met me. It was eerie, I'll admit I got a little chill when I saw it. But it was definitely me. My wide hazel eyes, big angular nose and pouchy lips were unmistakable.

The drawing of me was reaching into a woman's head. She looked as though she was in pain, and I looked quite the opposite. Clearly, I was taking her ability, the only question was: Where and when did this happen?

The where wasn't too difficult to figure out. It took place in some alley near Kirby Plaza. The statue was even in the picture, or a corner of it at least. I could go down there tomorrow and figure out exactly where it was, just by using the picture.

With a start, I realized that tomorrow could be too late, or too early. I checked the picture again, hoping it would tell me when to go to Kirby Plaza, but I could riddle out no date from the sketch. Only the time it would happen. thankfully, Picture Mangle was wearing a watch.

I won't bore you with the details, dear reader. I will say that for the next few days, I stood in the exact right spot at the exact right time, waiting for that woman to show up. I got more and more obsessed with each passing day. Hopefully, this chick would have a damn good power.

Turns out, she did. One night, as I waited for the girl to show up, I began to see a crowd accumulating around Kirby Plaza. My heart skipped a beat, it seemed that tonight was the night. Interested in this strange gathering, I found myself watching what was going on.

They fought, one man in black seemed to be facing off against the others. He was alone, it wasn't exactly a fair fight. A part of me wanted to aid the loner, but he seemed to be holding his own against the rest of them. That is, until a smaller man ran him through with a katana.

My first instinct was to go to the man, to try and help him, but I stayed put. There was only one reason why I was here, and that was to find the girl, and take her power.

As if on cue, a woman pushed past me, trying to get in on the action.

"That was rude." I snapped, grabbing the woman by the arm and slamming her against the wall. The girl looked a little dazed, and so I took my chance to reach into her brain. The painting came true, and I got my new toy.

There really isn't a better feeling than gaining a new ability, and this time it was completely guilt-free. No one got hurt, and now I understood what to do; now I could make people see what I wanted them to see. I could create illusions.

With a sigh of contentment, I withdrew my hand. Suddenly, the woman cried out in agony. Crap! Better scractch that 'no one got hurt' thing. Had any of the crazy people in Kirby Plaza heard? I didn't wait to find out. Using my newfound ability, I made myself disappear, turn invisible. If anyone had heard the woman's scream, they wouldn't see me.

I turned to leave, but something made me stop. I turned to look back at the katana'd man sprawled on the street. Maybe he was still alive...

I shook my head, I'd seen that guy shoot a cop not five seconds ago. It was the boy in blue I should be worried about. It was the guy who had just flown into the air and exploded. It was the katana-wielder who had disappeared into thin air. Why should I want to help just the one?

But the others had friends who would help them. He was alone. He needed someone. I sighed, and doubling back, I ran to him. No one saw me, I remained unseeable. Even as I crouched down next to the dying man in black, he didn't see me.

Of course, I got a shock when I saw who it was. It seems that Sylar's and my paths would cross again, for here he was. The eyebrows gave him away, had I seriously ever thought this guy was hot? Now, however, I was faced with a more pressing moral dilemma; save the killer, or let him die and save his future victims?

Oh, screw it! I wrapped one of Sylar's arms around my shoulder, and placed my invisible-illusion around him. Geez, he was heavier than I thought he'd be. I spotted a manhole a few feet away and dragged the both of us over to it. He left a trail of blood along the ground.

"Don't die," I hissed at Sylar. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

"I won't."

Oh! I hadn't realized that he was conscious, it was a bit weird actually. I didn't exactly want Sylar to know who I was so he could come, you know, Sylarize me. After lifting the manhole cover as quietly as I could, I stood up.

"You owe me." I told him, and then turned and ran. I had to get home, wash Sylar's blood off, test my new power. One thing was certain, I wasn't going back to Kirby Plaza any time soon. The place was full of weirdos!

----

Author notes:

Special Appreciation Hugs to -YouStoleMyName-, BigRed001, Celina-Marie and LunarEclispe for story alerting Mangled. :)


	5. Chapter 5: The Eclipse

My tale, dear reader, becomes a bit repetitive over the next few months. I didn't even notice, of course. I simply acquired ability after ability, becoming steadily more powerful, and I was prepared for continual expansion. My potential was unlimited, and nothing could stop me.

My first acquisition after Kirby Plaza was a psychiatrist who could sense people's emotions through empathy. Next, a guy who could create force fields. After that, I gained alchemy from a pawn shop owner. I felt invincible, like I could do anything, I could have whatever I wanted, I just had to find it.

Since I could turn things into gold, I didn't need to steal in order to support myself. That saved time, time I could use to hunt down more powers. Ridiculous me! I should have known that by cashing in so much gold, I was bound to draw some unwanted attention, but it was not the police who came looking for me.

I was walking back from the scene of an unexplained explosion when they found me. I'd heard about it on the news and it seemed like someone who could go 'boom' had done so by accident. The thing about these accidents is that sometimes, the one who caused the incident will want to find out what the damage was, and go back to the scene. That's when I come in and take what I need.

However, no such special appeared, and the police came to some conclusion or other about the nature of the disaster. How disappointing could it get? I was mulling that over when I noticed that I was being followed by two people, a man and a woman. They reeked of hostility, but I wasn't worried. I did want them off my trail, however, so I had them follow an illusion for a few blocks to throw them off. Laughing at their inferiority, I felt a little better on my way home.

Then it happened again, the same two people started following me. It wasn't cute anymore, and they weren't going to get away with it. They had no idea who they were dealing with, but I decided to teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. Luring them into an alleyway, I sensed their haughtiness. They thought they had me cornered!I spun and faced them, trying not to look too amused by the situation.

The man drew a gun and pointed it at me. However, his partner, the girl, pretended her hand was a gun, as a child might do if they were playing cops and robbers, or whatever kids play nowadays. Seeing how I didn't think anyone was dumb enough to mistake their hand for a gun, the only logical conclusion was that she had an ability.

"You're coming with us!" The woman barked.

I rolled my eyes, and with a lazy flick of my hand trapped the two people inside force fields. They panicked, and without hesitation I reached inside the woman's brain and took what I needed. She fell to the ground in agony as I moved on to her partner. I felt around inside his head, but didn't find a power. I was surprised when I pulled my hand out of his skull and he felt no pain.

Still, before I could let either of them go, I wanted to test my new ability. I pointed at a nearby garbage can, using my hand like a gun. I pressed my thumb down for the 'trigger' and was delighted when a bullet-sized hole appeared exactly where I'd aimed. I even giggled a bit. Knowing I'd have to take care of the guy without powers, I pointed at his leg and kneecapped him with my 'gun'. They would probably think twice before they came after me again.

After that little brush with disaster, I decided it was time to get a new identity, again. It was much easier to maintain a false life now that I could create illusions. I made myself beautiful, hoping that I would look less like a freaky fish. I even changed my red hair to blonde and my hazel eyes blue.

My new name became Isabella Black, because, um, Team Jacob! Yet, even though I was completely unrecognizable, I felt like it was time to leave New York. My safety was guaranteed if I relocated, but I had to stay somewhere with a large population, where specials would be in abundance. I decided to move to D.C., and it wasn't long before I was back to my old game.

I tried to be more careful this time around, though. Now I knew someone was looking for me. My caution slowed me down a little, so for the next few months I was only able to gain three abilities.

First, I learned how to turn my body into metal. After that, I found out how to repair things, just by touching them. Thirdly, and the most exciting, I learned how to find people. All I had to do was focus on the person I wanted to find, and I would be able to pinpoint their exact location.

I was doing so well. Everything seemed perfect! Fate interceded, or perhaps Karma had finally gotten around to giving me my punishment. To me, it didn't matter, the day of the second eclipse was the day my entire life was torn apart.

It was just like the day I took Georgia's power. The guilt I had been expertly avoiding for the past months returned with added force. I decided to go inside somewhere to get away from the eclipse, and so I tried to walk through a nearby wall. The only problem was I didn't walk through the wall, but into it. I tried again, but nothing happened. I had lost my most important ability.

I was so confused, panicked. I didn't know what was happening or why, but as I tried out each of my powers, one by one, I realized that none of them worked. My abilities were gone. With a jolt of fear I had to wonder:

What if they never returned?

Author notes:

I've come to the obvious conclusion that Mangle is an odd name... oh well, and odd name for an odd girl, no? eh, and I've also realized that I've made a canonical error... sigh, oh well.


	6. Chapter 6: The Question

My world seemed to stop as the question in my head played over and over like a broken record. Gasping for air, I leaned against the side of a building for support, as my legs felt like they would crumble into dust if I didn't.

I had to sit down somewhere and think, so I ran into the nearest bar. I ordered something big, with a lot of alcohol and then rested my face in my hands, trying to make sense of the situation. The question continued to repeat.

'What if my powers don't come back?'

Finally, I got enough courage to try and answer it. If my abilities truly were gone for good, that meant I couldn't be special anymore. I didn't want that to happen, I needed my powers. Without them I was, well, powerless! I was nothing.

Was I really nothing? I thought about that for a moment, taking a drink. What life did I have outside of my powers? None. Did I have hobbies, friends? No. Where would my future go now that I was, I hated thinking it, an average person? Nowhere. Nowhere at all.

I finished off my drink and ordered another one. What the hell was I going to do now? I could try to make a life as a regular person, but the thought of that monotony made my skin crawl. I couldn't build relationships with anyone; no one could possibly relate to me, understand me. I honestly couldn't picture myself learning to care about someone else and their trivial life.

The alcohol was making me feel better, though. Perhaps if I just drank myself into a stupor, the world would look better tomorrow. That seemed like a good idea at the time, so I continued to drink until last call. Then I went home and drank some more.

The next thing I knew I was blinking my eyes open after having passed out on the couch. It was noon, the eclipse had long since passed, and the feeling of dread at a powerless future had returned. I was not, however, going to sigh and give up on being special. Hoping and praying to every form of every god I could think of, I focused, watching my hand intently.

The skin on my fingertips began turn silver, and I nearly jumped for joy.

My abilities were back! Nothing was wrong, everything was fine, and my life would be the same as it ever was. I would collect more and more power, and that would make me happy. I was certain that would make me happy.

But my eyes had been opened, and I saw now that I was not happy. There was absolutely nothing about my life that caused me to enjoy my own existence. I was a junkie, and all that had ever mattered was the power. So I became a scavenger, stealing what I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted; I could be whoever I wanted. Still, I felt so lost. That wasn't special, it was pathetic.

I needed a drink. After the eclipse it seemed that I always needed a drink. And the more I drank, the more I had to drink. I suppose I have an addictive personality, and alcoholism was an easy trap for me to fall into. For the better part of three and a half months I was intoxicated, attempting futilely to forget my miserable life.

Don't think I spent the entire time drunk though. I tried, dear reader, I really did, to make friends, get a life, but I could never seem to get it together. I went out, met people, but they bored me. I was special, they were not. Frustrated after these failed attempts at finding a place among normal humans, I would go home night after night and crawl into the comfort of a bottle. I was really and truly a mess.


	7. Chapter 7: The Magpies

It was at my darkest hour that I was saved. On a day like any other, I went out, trying to make meaningful human contact, and came home crying. With a case of cheap beer in one hand, I opened the door to my apartment, but I sensed that it wasn't empty. Emotions were emanating from inside; hostility, anticipation, along with something else that I couldn't quite define. It felt strange, but strangely familiar.

I stepped into my apartment cautiously, 'gun' at the ready. Whatever sap had decided to rob me had made a big mistake, because I was powerful, and I was in a bad mood. Little did I know who I was dealing with. As I walked into my apartment, I heard the door shut behind me, and I swiveled to see who it was.

It was dark, but I could tell that the intruder was a man, and one much bigger than me. I reminded myself that he couldn't hurt me even if he was a pro wrestler, but I still felt intimidated. Perhaps it was because his face was shrouded in darkness, making him look like a nightmare incarnate.

"You know, there's not a lot of places I can go where every clock in the house runs perfectly." He said, irritatingly nonchalant. His voice was like a snake slithering down your back; cold, dangerous and uncannily gentle.

"Yeah? Do my clocks say that it's time for you to get your ass kicked? Because that would be what time it is." I threatened, a second or two passed and I realized what my intruder had just said, "Wait a second, how do you know if my clocks are running perfectly?"

"Just a talent I have." He said darkly as he lifted his hand. I felt myself get thrown backwards. I was hit hard by the wall, but harder by the realization that the man in my house was Watch-Guy, Sylar. He was the ruthless killer, but he was my equal, and now we met for the third time.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, is it?" I said, ticked right off. So what if he was my equal? I wasn't about to let him throw me around like this, "Well, I think someone needs to teach you how to play nice."

With a little concentration, I managed to make a force field appear right in front of him. Before he could react, I quickly expanded it, hitting him in the face. I broke his concentration, and probably his nose, and was able to drop back onto the ground. Shooting him a few times, I started over to Sylar, but he hit me with a jolt of electricity. I knew he wouldn't kill me, though, I had what he wanted.

"That's a neat power," I said, my curiosity overcoming my pain.

"I could say the same to you." he replied. I was amazed when he stood up and there wasn't a scratch on him. Sylar had completely healed!

He tried to zap me with lightning again, but this time I was ready. Just in time, I turned my body into metal, and the electricity passed through me harmlessly. Now I was done playing around. I encompassed him in a force field, hoping I could get him to let up for a second. He was having none of that, and used his telekinesis to expand the field until it dissolved. Sylar still tried to look like he was toying with me, but I could sense the frustration coming off him.

"Am I too hard to kill?" I goaded, "Maybe you should quit while you're still alive." I wanted him to get angry, maybe do something reckless. Then I would have the upper hand.

He smirked at me, "Only one person is leaving this room alive, and I'll give you a hint which one." Then he pinned me to the ground with his mind. He pointed at my head, obviously preparing to chop my skull open and scoop me out like a cantaloupe.

Thinking quickly, I phased through the floor and back up. I would not run away from this fight. Appearing directly behind my attacker, I reached inside his head.

"Now you listen to me, Sylar." I said forcefully, "You have got to think about what's happening here. Sure, you could kill me and take my abilities..."

"Can't we just skip to the part where I do that?" Sylar asked sarcastically.

"I said listen to me!" Pushing my arm further into his head, I wiggled my fingers in front of his face, reminding him that I was calling the shots. I sensed a tiny bit of fear coming from him.

"Now, sure, you could take my abilities," I continued, "But then what? You're just going to find more and more abilities, get old, and die sad and alone."

"Actually," Sylar corrected, "I'll never die, I'll never get old. I can go on doing this forever."

"Oh." I was not expecting that, "Well, that really just means that, instead of dying sad and alone, you'll live a sad lonely existence, forever."

Sylar snorted, "My father told me almost the same exact thing." He wasn't taking me seriously.

I sighed, "I suppose you killed him too."

"No actually," he admitted slowly, "I let him live... because his life was worse than death...."

I sensed some serious concern emitting from Sylar. He was afraid to become that man, he was starting to see my point. Our lives were the lonely sort, and I think he was begining to realize that.

"You know," I pointed out as I cautiously pulled my hand out of Sylar's head, "You don't have to end up like that."

Sylar turned quickly and faced me, "I'm not going to end up like that." He hissed, staring me down. Damn it, was he scary. Could this really be the same man who had sat alone all day in that shop? "Why do you care anyway? Are you like the rest of them, planning to making me you're own, personal soldier?"

This guy clearly had some issues. Then I realized that Sylar was not looking at me, but at some pretty blonde he had never met. I let my illusion slip away, showing Sylar my too-big eyes, my angular nose, the ugly me.

"I know you probably don't remember me, but-"

"No," He cut me off, "You're the college girl, from a year ago, the one with my ability."

I nodded.

"And in Kirby Plaza, you saved me."

"Yeh," I shrugged, smiling awkwardly.

Sylar cocked his head, "We seem to keep running into each other."

"I kinda noticed that too." I agreed, "But that's not the point of what I'm saying. I saved you Sylar, now I need you to return the favor."

"You need saving?" Sylar smirked, raising an eyebrow. I suppose that my confession of distress seemed like and act of weakness in his eyes, and that was funny to him.

"We both do," I replied, turning it around on him, "Face it. Neither one of us wants to be alone, and we both need someone to fill the gaping hole in our lives. Am I wrong here?"

Sylar leaned back against a wall and rolled his eyes at me, "So, what?" He asked sarcastically, "We're gonna be power-buddies forever and ever?"

I giggled awkwardly, "Hehe, I come off a little strong I guess. I just figured you might want someone to talk to who wasn't, you know, trying to kill you."

Sylar considered that for a few moments, "Like a friend?" He asked skeptically.

I smiled at him, "Yeah, like a friend."

I sensed that Sylar was taking the offer very seriously. He stared at the ground a few feet away, his brow furrowed and his hair falling into his face. I was beginning to remember the Sylar that i had found so attractive last year. Still, it was some kind of unethical to be thinking those sorts of things about a serial killer.

"I have waffles." I offered, hoping I could bribe Sylar. He turned and looked at me, and then he smiled. He genuinely smiled, and for the first time in a long time, life didn't feel quite so bad.

Author notes

If you didn't at least CHUCKLE at 'like a cantaloupe' then I don't get you.

Oh, and finally we get to deal with a character besides Mangle... It had to happen sometime.


	8. Chapter 8: The Killer

"My name's Mangle by the way." I said, scooping out a gooey mixture from a bowl and slopping it onto a pan. Because I didn't have a waffle iron, the waffles had become pancakes. By now, I had reverted back to my beautiful illusion, though I sensed Sylar didn't like that so much. Oh well.

"It says in your file that your name is Melangel..." Sylar noted. I pulled a face.

"Yeah, first of all don't call me that." I requested bluntly, "And secondly, W-T-F? What file are you talking about?" Who the hell was keeping a file on me?

Sylar smirked, "Don't you watch the news? People like us are getting hunted down by the government."

My eyes widened, "They need to seriously up their security. I mean, how does super-powered enemy number one get his hands on government files?"

"By asking nicely."

I urged Sylar to elaborate as I went to sit next to him. He went on to tell me all about the government plans to kidnap people with abilities, led by the hypocritical flying senator, Nathan Petrelli. Then Sylar told me about Danko, who he had coerced into a deal. They both wanted people with abilities dead, so the match seemed like one made in heaven.

I laughed, "Is this guy brain-dead? I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're probably going to kill him."

"He's probably going to try and kill me first." Sylar replied, amused by the thought. I started laughing again, and then coughed a little.

"Is something burning?" I asked, and Sylar pointed me in the direction of my stove, which was swathed in a black cloud. I jumped in surprise, having completely forgotten about the pancakes I was supposed to be making. I swore and quickly started over to my stove, but I didn't need to. Like magic, the cloud of smoke rushed out a window, the charcoal pancakes dropped themselves in the trash and the pan floated to the sink.

"Okay. Best. Ability. Ever." I remarked, referring to Sylar's telekinesis.

"Maybe you should forget about trying to cook for now." He suggested.

I snickered, "Yeah, maybe," My eyes flicked to the door, "Um, should I be worried about a bunch of government goons coming to take me away? I mean, if they have a file on me..." I shrugged, evidencing my lack of serious concern, and Sylar shook his head.

"The 'government goons' know what you are." Sylar explained, "They're afraid to come after you."

"No kidding?" I asked happily, proud that I could scare a troupe of gun-wielding semi-soldiers.

Sylar nodded a little, "If they had known you were just a ditz, I don't think they'd hesitate to take you down."

I put my hands on my hips and frowned at him, "Oh, really? Remind me again; who won the fight we just now had, and who ended up with my arm through their cranium?"

Sylar laughed at me, "I let you win because you were a ditz."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart." I threw my hands up in mock exasperation. Instinctively, I opened up the fridge and pulled out two cold bottles, "Have a drink?" I offered, holding up one of them. As it floated out of my hand, I leaned against the counter.

"So. What's the deal with Elle now?" I asked. It was merely out of curiosity, of course. All at once, a wave of sadness came off of Sylar, and I was nearly knocked over by it.

"She's dead"

I cursed myself for having brought this up, "I'm sorry."

His expression was unreadable, though the sadness had definitely subsided, as he said, "Don't be. I'm the one who killed her." He looked at my skeptically, "How did you remember Elle? I mentioned her once, in passing..."

"Um, because YOU told me." I answered, "Once I figured out that you and I had the same, ah, 'issues', a lot of memories linked to you sorta cleared up real good."

"That makes sense." Sylar admitted, "When I realized what you were, I couldn't get you out of my head."

"Wait a minute." I said, standing, "You knew what I was? When?"

"It was after you came in my shop the first time." He explained, "As soon as I knew what I was, I knew what you were."

"You knew what would happen to me," I seethed, "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know you were special," Sylar stated, "I wanted to be the only one."

I could relate to that. The need to be important had driven me to kill, after all. It could definitely drive Sylar to lie.

"Okay," I replied, and smiled, "But what happened next? I mean after I met you way back when, you did, like, stuff. A lot of stuff," I giggled, "You're freaking Sylar! I gotta hear your story."

Sylar gave me an 'are you some kind of stupid?' look, "So," He asked sarcastically, "You want me to tell you everything that has happened to me, from the point we first met, to right now?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"That isn't a short story."

"Yeah," I agreed, sitting back down next to him, "But I'll bet it's awesome!"

Sylar smiled, and with that began telling me the story. The Explosion, the Shanti Virus, Mexico, The Petrellis, all of it. I was not wrong. From the people he'd met, and killed, to the situations he'd found himself in, the story of Sylar's life was awesome, and for hours that night, he told me the whole thing.

Author notes:

ugh, this chapter is so boring! I couldn't find a way of explaining things without these two having a long conversation. Sigh, I need some help to make this suck less. Also, a name for the chapter would be nice, if anyone is up for a challenge.

Oh, and I just remembered! Obani joined the Sarmy today. Yay!


	9. Chapter 9: The Fix

Sylar left sometime around two in the morning, leaving me exhausted, but unable to sleep. I no longer felt the need to escape from life by slipping into a dream. Finally, I could be really, truly, happy.

The end to my loneliness, however, was not the solution to all my problems. I realized with extraordinary agitation that I was out of anything even remotely alcoholic.

My obvious next move was to go down to the 7/11 and buy some more booze. It had never occurred to me before that day that I had a problem with my drinking, but when I brought that particular six-pack home, I spent a long time just staring at it. I wanted to drink, but so desperately I wanted to be sober. Sylar might come by that afternoon, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me drunk and miserable and so very unspecial.

It was, however, extremely hard not to drink, especially since I'd already bought the damn booze. I kept my mind busy for a few hours, doing little things around the house, trying to make it presentable. Eventually, I found myself doing the same things over and over, and I started to panic. There was no way I could ever resist the temptation to drink, not with the beer in my house.

The only thing I could do was put it outside my door, I couldn't bare to get rid of it any other way. Hopefully, some neighbor kids would steal it. The seemingly herculean task done, I locked myself in the bathroom, and simply wallowed in my self-pity.

Unfortunately, that's exactly how Sylar found me when he came by that afternoon: Sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and making every attempt to stay perfectly still. I felt like any movement I made could destroy what little self restraint I had. I didn't even notice him come in until I felt him sitting next to me.

"Why is there beer on your doorstep?" He acted like I wasn't freaking out, like he was just making conversation, but I could sense his pity, stupid jerk. He was starting to figure out how desperate I was.

"I don't want to talk about it." I answered, my voice a little shaky.

"Come on Mangle." His tone was half concerned, half taunting as he pointed out, "I thought we were friends."

It wasn't exactly my plan to go all sob-story and unload on Sylar, but he left me very little choice in the matter. Before I could stop myself, I was bawling into his shirt, pausing just long enough to moan, "I think I'm an alcoholic."

Shockingly, the emotions I picked up from Sylar were neither compassionate nor disgusted. If anything, he seemed... amused, like he was getting some sick satisfaction from seeing me all weak and vulnerable.

"If that's true, I think I can help." He said smugly, absentmindedly fiddling with a strand of my hair, "I am very good at fixing things, you know."

"You could, couldn't you." I muttered, drying my eyes and looking up at him. Duh. If I had thought about this for just one second, I would have realized that telekinesis plus intuitive aptitude could definitely equal instant-rehab. The one drawback? I would need to ask for help, to admit that I needed Sylar to fix my problem because I couldn't handle it myself.

But he was my friend, right? I could trust him, of all people, right?

I drew a labored breath to calm myself, "Do it."

He smirked, "Say please."

Of all the nasty, manipulative, inhuman, sadistic, cruel, wretched, manipulative... yet, underneath the desire Sylar had to be the one in control of this relationship, there was also a real desire to help me. I supposed that, for a killer, this was most compassion I would ever receive from him.

Putting on a falsetto, I said, with much batting of my eyelids, "Oh, gee, Sylar. I really would think it awful swell of you if you could help me out of my pickle," and with added flourish, finished, "Puh-leeez?"

Suddenly, I felt my body arrested, held rigid but some unseen force.

"Don't move," He said, as if I could. He focused hard, and without warning, I felt something deep inside my brain start to burn with the most intense pain I'd ever felt.

"Ah! You didn't say it would hurt!" I cried.

"I didn't say it wouldn't," he replied, focusing harder, "Done, you're all better now."

Slowly, the pain started to fade, "Wow, I don't even know how to thank you for this."

Silently, Sylar stood, and offered a hand to help me do the same. "I can think of one thing you can do for me." He stated after a short pause.

Uh-oh, "Yeah, sure, okay." I agreed cautiously. I hoped he didn't want me to help him with anything too murderous.

"Stop being blonde, I liked the red better." He demanded, lifting a strand of my hair in front of my eyes, "I've had better luck with redheads than blondes anyway, and the face. Go back to your real face."

"Ok, why?"

"Because," He said, "People like you and me shouldn't have to pretend to be like the rest of them, they should be trying to be like us." He turned and strode out of the bathroom down the hall to my living room.

Following, I complied with his request, but sensed subtext, and felt compelled to press the matter.

"Is there something else bothering you? Something you might want to share?"

He laughed as he sat on my couch, acting like the very thought of him having emotions was completely insane.

"I can SENSE that there's something else bothering you." I rephrased.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, Sylar." I sat down next to him, "I thought we were friends."

"Alright." He conceded, his countenance growing somewhat darker, "Basically, it's about Agent Taub."

"That guy you're pretending to be?"

"You wouldn't understand." He replied, almost bitterly, "When you disguise yourself, that's all it is; a disguise. I have to change, change myself into that man, every single day."

He was starting to panic, so I wrapped my arm around him. I was taken aback by how surprised he was that I cared.

"I just, sometimes I can't tell which man is real, and which one is..." He looked at his hands for a single questioning moment, before backtracking to draw attention away from his vulnerability "So that's why I don't want you walking around like another person all the time. I need you to be real."

"I can definitely do that."

After that, he nodded, muttered "Good," and turned to look at me. I was still half-wrapped around him, and much closer than I had realized.  
"You know Mangle, I've thought of something else you could do for me." He whispered. The waves of his emotion that hit me then were like an avalanche, I was almost caught off guard by the hand he slid up my leg. But, honestly, it was inevitable. Here we were, the only two people in the world who really mattered, and there he was, so very attractive, so very powerful. In what universe would this not happen?  
"I don't really have to tell you, do I?" He asked, a flick of his wrist pulling me flush against his chest, "You can sense it, of course."  
"Of course." I said trembling, overcome by the feeling of his body against mine, the sweetly poisonous sound of his voice and the potency of both our desires mingling in my brain. Still holding me to him like a puppet on a magic string, he leaned forward so my back was against the sofa.  
"And are you going to give me what I want?" He asked, knowing full well the answer to his question.  
"Of course." I breathed, barely able to make a sound.  
That's when he kissed me, passion radiating out of him. From that point, one thing became perfectly clear: I was his, and nothing would keep us apart.  
I'm not going to lie to you, dear reader, It's fairly obvious what happened next.


End file.
